Giddy piloted the ship to a strip of land that was broadcasting no sentient life form readings, somewhere in the southern hemisphere of Kashyyyk. Renora sat in a small swivel chair, glaring at a nutrient bar, as Giddy attached analysis nodes to the purple rock.
“I can’t believe it,” said Renora, pausing to toss one more evil glance at the nutrient bar before taking a bite.
“Yes, it is kind of hard to believe that the dark side is so versatile.”
“No, I mean the food. Or the lack thereof. Disgusting. Are you sure we don’t have anything besides nutrient bars aboard this ship? I think I’m going to die of starvation. Like yesterday.”
“You died of starvation yesterday?”
“Master, it’s an expression indicating my impatience with this…stuff…that we’re dumb enough to call ‘food.’”
“Thank you for educating your poor, ignorant Master.”
“No problem. Will you pay me in food?”
“Sure. Chewie left us a package of raw meat.”
“Mmmm, my favorite. How did he know?”
“Maybe he’s Force-sensitive.”
“In that case, let me take him as my apprentice so I can order him to go get me some food.”
“He already did.”
“What am I going to cook it with, my lightsaber? Or how about just setting it on top of a hologram of Master Qui-Gon Jinn? That’s hot enough to cook it. If you know what I mean.”
“That’s a pretty risky condition.”
“‘Risk’ is my middle name.”
“I thought ‘danger’ was your middle name.”
“I changed it.”
“Could you be quiet long enough for me to finish this DNA matchup?”
“Sure, sure, don’t mind the humble apprentice.” Scowling, Renora took another bite of the coarse, grainy bar. “All the technology in the galaxy,” she muttered, “and these things still taste like bantha poodoo. And people are stilling saying the Empire’s not dysfunctional. They spend all this money on blowing up planets, and they can’t even make a decent--”
“Hmmm,” Giddy said, her tone tinged with an odd tenor.
“What is it?” Renora asked around a mouthful of cardboard.
“Ummm.”
“You can stop auditioning for the Coruscant opera now,” Renora laughed. “Seriously, Master, what is it?”
“This is very interesting. I guess Sith really can be smart. Once in a while.”
“Yeah, their track record is really long, but really pathetic. What are they up to now?”
“It would make sense for them to tie this crystal to the DNA of a very public figure, to make it difficult for the crystal to be destroyed.”
“So…the crystal’s tied to a very public figure?”
“Good guess! You win ten points,” Giddy chuckled, still studying the analysis terminal that was built into the interior of the ship.
“Who? Like…uh…a senator?”
“I’m going to have to take your ten points away.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute, give me another chance. Is it…um…don’t tell me, don’t tell me…A holostar?”
“You got it right on the second try! How many points do you have now?”
“I don’t know. My extensive talents don’t extend to math.” Renora grinned.
“Like you need to remind me.”
“Who is it, then?”
“A holostar.”
“Yeah, I figured. Which one?”
“A famous holostar.”
“Oh, Master,” Renora snorted, popping the last of her nutrient bar into her mouth. “Who,
in the name of the galaxy and everybody in it, is our mysterious holostar?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full. Didn’t your mom teach you any manners?”
“Master! That’s not funny. Now tell me who it is!”
“All right, all right, don’t have a hernia, Padawan. It’s…um…a holostar by the name of D’onny Jepp.”
The wedge of bantha poodoo-flavored/synthetic cocoa nutrient bar leapt to the back of Renora’s throat, and her eyes watered in burning protest. Coughing, her face as red as a dying sun, she sputtered and spat until the offending “food” had returned to its proper place in the Force. And in her stomach.
“Water bottle?” asked Giddy, smirking slightly.
Renora managed to nod, and Giddy tossed her a tube of filtered water.
“What…what did you say?” croaked Renora, taking another sip of water.
“Do we need to get your ears checked?”
“No, but I might need an esophagus replacement.”
“Who’s fault is that?”
“Certainly not mine.”
“And not mine, either. So who does that leave us with?”
“I’m not going to say a word.”
“That’s a first.”
“Not a word.”
“Really, Padawan, I’m overjoyed.”
“Good, I’m happy you’re so overjoyed.” Renora crinkled the wrapper from her nonexistent nutrient bar into a little ball, and swiveled around in her chair to toss the ball down a garbage chute.
“Master?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have any idea where D’onny lives?”
“Sorry, Padawan, you’re the stalker, not me. Where does he live?”
“Coruscant.”
Master Giddy turned to face her Padawan, brushing a strand of red hair away from her eyes.
“Where?” she asked.
“Do we need to get your hearing checked, Master?” laughed Renora.
“He lives on Coruscant?”
“Well, naturally, Master, all holostars do. Well, with the exception of Beri and Belinda Berkarr, of course, because of their unique situation with the custody of those three Gamorrean babies.”
“Of course,” said Giddy, looking unconvinced. “Do you have any idea how many Imps there are on Coruscant?”
“I have an idea, and it isn’t a very pleasant one.”
“And I don’t even like D’onny Jepp.”
“That isn’t the point, Master. It’s about our duty as Jedi Knights to the galaxy, the Force, and to civilization. Its about the preservation of life itself. It’s about the salvation of the light; the annihilation of the oppressive darkness.”
“And about you laying your teenaged talons on D’onny Jepp.”
“Why, Master, I didn’t even think of that.”
=========================
Renora felt a disturbance in the Force, emanating from somewhere in Giddy’s quarters. The two had decided to proceed to Coruscant in short, coordinated hyperspace jumps, in order to skirt all mobile Imperial outposts that dotted the galaxy from Kashyyyk to the former capital of the Republic. This method was considerably slower than the conventional, single hyper-leap, but infinitely safer, as well. That made this sudden commotion in the Force even more disconcerting to Giddy’s Padawan. And made her that much more curious, too.
Rising from the small bunk in the corner of her room, Renora tossed aside the book chip she had been reading on her data pad, pulled on her boots, and made her way to Master Giddy’s quarters.
She paused outside the door, unable to detect the telltale sensation of being "watched" that would indicate whether her Master had sensed her presence. When she felt she had waited long enough, she palmed the control pad near the door, stepping aside as it slid open with a soft, faintly hydraulic woosh.
Master Lightsky was huddled over her desk, engrossed in a tiny hologram that sat in the palm of her hand. Renora took a step back as she was hit by the range and intensity of emotions projected by her Master.
“Master?” she asked, her voice low. Giddy jumped, spinning around in her chair.
“How long have you been there?” she snapped, her brow furrowed in anger.
“I…I’m sorry, Master. I thought…I thought you would’ve sensed my presence. I felt a disturbance in your room and came to see if you’re all right.” Renora swallowed, feeling her cheeks flush with a heady mixture of shame and anxiety. She turned away, placing one hand on the door frame. “I’m sorry I disturbed you. I’m out of here. See you tomorrow.”
“Renora, wait!” Giddy called, rising from her chair.
“Yes, Master?” asked Renora, her eyes averted.
“I’m sorry I went after you like that. Come in. Let me show you something.”
“Sure, Master,” she said, stepping into the room and taking a seat on Giddy’s bunk.
Giddy brushed her thumb across a button in the base of the hologram, and the image grew until it was about half the size of a normal humanoid.
“It’s Master Obi-Wan,” said Renora.
“Very perceptive of you.” Giddy smiled.
“You miss him.”
“Yes. Every day.”
“He was a great Jedi, Master.”
“I know, Padawan.”
“I think he’s probably enjoying his vacation from all this saving the galaxy kark,” laughed Renora.
“Probably!” Giddy sighed. “Let me show you another one.” The image shifted to that of an older woman, her lips curled in a cocky grin, her carelessly cropped hair ending just under her ears. Even through the murky details displayed by the hologram -- which Renora realized, with great disdain, was an older model, and way less wizard than the newer ones -- she could see that the woman’s eyes radiated determination, filtered through patient good-humor.
“Who’s she?” asked Renora.
“My old Master. She died during the Clone Wars.” Giddy smiled sadly. “Her name was Renora Ta’a.”
“How original,” grinned Renora.
“That’s where your name came from.”
“You named me after your Master. Isn’t cruel and unusual punishment against the law, or did the Empire get rid of that, too?”
“Oh, Padawan,” said Giddy, shaking her head and chuckling softly. “She wasn’t like most Jedi Masters. She taught me everything I know. But more than that, she taught me how to know everything I know.” Giddy paused, organizing her thoughts. “When she died, I felt like the Force had abandoned me. I’ve long since come to terms with her passing, but sometimes, I miss her guidance.”
Renora nodded. “I understand.”
Giddy raised her eyebrows. “You do?”
“Yes, I do.”
“How?”
“I just do. Because I don’t.” Renora considered this doubtfully. “Do you get it?”
“Yes, Padawan, I think so.”
“Good. Now, how come Master Obi-Wan hasn’t visited you in forever? I think you need him.”
“It hasn’t been forever. It’s just been…a long time.”
“Might as well be forever.”
“The Force works in mysterious ways.”
“Master, you and I both know that’s an excuse.”
Giddy breathed deeply, centering herself in the Force. “An eternity separates Obi-Wan and I.”
“But it also binds you.”
"Equally so, yes."
"But doesn't that cancel the binding part out?"
“Renora,” interjected another, more hollow voice, “you make forever sound like an eternity.”
Renora started, looking up in astonishment at the pale blue form materializing before them.
“To you, Master Kenobi, maybe, it isn’t,” she said, not missing a beat. “But to everybody else, it’s kind of a big deal.”
He smiled, that same gentle, wise twisting of the lips that Renora hated and loved at the same time. She didn’t want to ask Giddy’s opinion about it. “Kind of a big deal?”
“Yes, kind of. Not quite. I read just the other day that Coruscanti scientists have been able to quantify infinity using mathematical induction.”
“Good for them,” said Giddy. “Now let’s see them try to understand it!”
“Gidrea,” said Obi-Wan, taking her into his ghostly arms. “I don’t think you’ve changed a bit.”
“Obi-Wan, you’re still an honest liar.”
“The best kind.”
“The only kind that I taught you to be.”
“Oh, so you’re my Master now, too, are you?”
“I’m the one who taught you how to tell a convincing lie!”
“And before that, I couldn’t do it.”
“Before that, you were a pathetic liar.”
“All right, lovebirds, stop it before you make me sick,” said Renora, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. “I’m going back where I belong. Looks like you two have a few things you need to sort out.”
“Your Padawan is almost as wise as you are, Gidrea.”
“Don’t give her a big head.”
“Too late for that,” said Renora, grinning in triumph. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Master. I’ll get to pay you back for this aberrant disruption to this ship, my one and only home, and haven, and sanctuary in a galaxy of evil.”
“What in the name of the Jedi Order are you teaching her?” asked Obi-Wan.
“Sometimes, I wonder.”
“The Force works in mysterious ways!” Renora shouted over her shoulder.
“That’s just an excuse,” said Giddy.
“What’s wrong with making an excuse?” asked Obi-Wan.
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“On what the excuse is for.”
“I hope you don’t need an excuse to account for me.”
“Never, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Never!”
